


Stash

by CharityLambkin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Smokes Marijuana, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Stoner!Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharityLambkin/pseuds/CharityLambkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony finds Bruce on the roof of his Malibu mansion.</p>
<p>This is meant to be a side story for Pygmalion Avenged, but I don't think you need to read that one to get what goes on here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stash

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summary says, this story ties in with Pygmalion Avenged, but Tony and Bruce are a little bit OOC, so I decided to post it as a separate fic. So you can consider it part of that story or not, as you like.

Footsteps echoed across the roof of the Malibu mansion.  Bruce, perched on the westernmost edge, turned to see Tony carefully making his way over to him, an acoustic guitar slung across his back by a purple strap.  Bruce could see relief written in every line of the engineer’s body.

“Imagine finding you here.  I’ve looked literally everywhere in the house.  I thought you had hitchhiked back to New York.”

Bruce shrugged.  “Last place, right?”

“On Earth?  Or where you look?  For you, probably both.  That saying always annoyed me: of course you find things in the last place you look.  Who would keep looking?”

“Maybe someone who doesn’t know that he’s found it.”

“I’m surprised you knew how to get up here.”

“It’s not that hard, really.  There’s that wall down there to climb on, and most of the roof just slopes; I followed it around.”

Tony sat next to him, though he did not dangle his feet over the edge like Bruce.   He sniffed.  “Are you smoking _weed_?”

Bruce’s mouth quirked into a quick, embarrassed smile and he picked up the joint from where it rested on the edge of the roof.  “Yeah, sorry.  I came up here to be out of the way.”

“And smoke weed.  Where did you get it?  You didn’t have it on the plane.”

“Of course not!  No, I, uh, asked JARVIS and he told me that there was some in the house.”

“There was?”

“He said you had probably forgotten about it.  Short-term memory loss and all.”

“And he called me a _stoner_? And let you smoke my weed?”

“He didn’t use the word ‘stoner’…”

Tony huffed.  “Well, pass it over!  It’s my joint!”

Bruce obliged, and Tony took a long drag.  The smoke caught in his throat and he barely pulled the joint away before he coughed, forcing it up his nose.  It burned from the center of his chest up into his sinuses, and his eyes watered from the force of coughing.  Bruce rubbed his back, his brown eyes dark with concern.

“It’s…been a while,” Tony wheezed.  “Not since before…” he tapped the arc reactor.

Bruce kept rubbing his back, slowing as Tony’s breathing eased.  “I can imagine it’s not a great idea.”

“It’s okay.  I’m okay now.  Good thing you found it.  Someone should enjoy it.”

Bruce quickly sucked down the rest to ash, blowing the smoke out across the Pacific Ocean.

“Do you want me to leave you alone so you can play?” He gestured to the guitar forgotten beside Tony.

Tony shook his head.  “No, I’m glad you’re here.  I didn’t know where to find you.”

“We haven’t been here for very long,” Bruce said.

“You don’t even need 24 hours to disappear, and we’re pretty far from New York.”

Bruce smiled.  “Sometimes, Tony, I don’t know if you’re a really good friend or a really bad stalker.”

Tony flipped the guitar onto his lap and strummed a chord.  “I’ll be watching you,” he sang in his breathy, coarse tenor. 

Bruce laughed, and Tony’s responded with a wry, but honest, grin.  His hands strummed the strings absently, picking out melodies as they came to him.  Bruce leaned back on his elbows, watching the sun sinking out over the ocean.

“Any requests?” Tony asked a while later, after it became apparent that both men were content in each other’s company and neither wanted to leave.

Bruce shook his head. “You mean like mellow jazz and bongo drums?”

Tony smirked exactly as Bruce hoped he would.  “I’m never ever going to let you forget this, you know, right?”

“Like how your AI told me about your stash?”

“Touché, Doctor Banner.  Anyway, it’s medical.  You must have a prescription, too, right? I mean, if _you_ don’t need a jay or two to calm the fuck down, who does?”

“I don’t usually have to worry about prescriptions where I’m living.”

“Well, you’re a doctor, right?  Can’t you just write one?”

Bruce laughed.  “I’m not that kind of doctor, Tony.”

After another moment, Tony’s hands seemed to find a rhythm.  Bruce recognized the beginning riffs of the song, though he hadn’t heard it in a very long time.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner/Sometimes I feel like my only friend,” Tony sang.  The sensuous curves of the roof seemed to capture the sound and spiral it back to them.  Bruce could hear why Tony came up here to play and he wondered if the design had been on purpose.

Tony continued to sing. He was quite good at the guitar and he had the voice to match, and Bruce felt himself easily swept away.  He leaned further back, until he was lying on his back with his legs dangling over the edge.  The afternoon sun had warmed the roof, and he was comfortable even though the sun was dying on the horizon and a chill breeze blew off the ocean.

The song ended and the final chords faded into the gathering twilight. 

“Are you stoned?” Tony asked.  He absently picked at the strings again.

Bruce felt like he was floating, drifting on the waves of the universe, but anchored by Tony’s voice and the random notes hanging in the air.  It had been a while since the last time he smoked—before he even met Tony and the Avengers and fought against inter-dimensional aliens—and Tony had good stuff.

“Yeah…”

“Good.”  Tony leaned down so his face was very very close to Bruce’s.  “I have three words for you: Maple. Bacon. Doughnuts.”

Bruce laughed and shoved Tony away, though he was careful to push him away from the roof’s edge.  “I’m not eating bacon,” he said.  “But I’ll take a doughnut.”

“Your loss, Doc.”  Tony rolled to his feet and dusted off his pants before picking up the guitar.  He offered Bruce a hand up, and Bruce accepted.  Still, he wavered on his feet a little.  “Don’t fall off the roof, now!” Tony laughed.

Bruce glanced over the edge.  “You know it doesn’t really matter if I fall, right?”

“It does matter if you _land on my house_.”  But Tony was still laughing, which meant that no, it didn’t really matter.

Tony picked up the guitar with his right hand and slung his left arm over Bruce’s shoulders.  “You know,” Tony continued.  “You can smoke my stash anytime.”

“Yeah,” Bruce answered.  “Yeah, I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are fuel to my flames, so please let me know what you think!


End file.
